


Stumbling Out of the Darkness

by steelcrash



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cybertron, F/M, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, M/M, Missing Persons, Post-War, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Transformer Sparklings, Transformers Spark Bonds, Unrequited Love, the Golden Age wasn't so golden
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelcrash/pseuds/steelcrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and the Autobots are just beginning to pick up the pieces. But old secrets come to light and Kup's broken family has to deal with the consequences of the of the past and choices not their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uncovered

Stumbling Out of the Darkness

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. They officially belong to Hasbro and Takara. I'm taking them for a short spin.

Kup stared down at the data pad in his hands. The casualty list grew longer with each passing day. The latest KIA included Elita-1 and Chromia. Scrubbing at his face, brushing away the tears, Kup subspaced the report, hearing Springer calling his name. The ancient mech stood, heading back into the rubble of what was once Alpha Trion's lab. Kup was overseeing the remaining femmes and Springer as they went through the place, scavenging anything valuable and downloading all the information he could find. 

Some retrieved data was useful, some disturbing and dating back to both Quintesson wars. Most was corrupted, but Springer was excited by what he found. 

“Hey, Kup, you might wanna read this,” the young mech said, handing the elder a data pad. 

“It's mostly historical garbage about an experimental project from the end of the Golden Age, but it includes a list of all of Shockwave's know energon stores, updated to within the past few weeks,” Springer said. 

“Good work, Springer,” Kup said, clapping the green mech on the shoulder. 

“Think this is enough salvage to warrant going back to Earth?” Springer asked. “I want to get back to Rodimus.”

“So do I, kid,” Kup said. “We'll have to go back for the funeral, anyway.”

Kup flinched at the way Springer's energy field lashed out, then withdrew so tight Kup couldn't even feel his anger an annoyance anymore. But the look on his face said all he needed to know about how how the triple changer felt about the situation. His adopted brother and best friend, the former Hot Rod, now Rodimus Prime, was stuck on Earth cleaning up the mess the Autobots left behind when they headed to Cybertron to defend their home world from Unicron's attack. 

“C'mon. There's not much more here we can do anyway,” Kup said. “The stuff still here is important, but it can wait. I want to see Rodimus as much as you.”

88888  
Autobot City—Earth

The body of Optimus Prime lay on the berth where they left him in the med bay. Just up and left him alone in the race to defend Cybertron from Unicron. The former Prime was gone. Dead. His fault, if Rodimus Prime was looking for someone to blame. He should've listened to Kup—the fight was Prime's, and he shouldn't have interfered. Now he held the Matrix of Leadership, and was Prime. Something he should not be. 

Hell, Prime passed the Matrix to Ultra Magnus, not him. Magnus was Optimus' chosen successor. And what happened in Unicron's head, hearing Optimus' voice, had to be a hallucination. But he was now Matrix-bearer, proof enough he was now Prime, chosen of the Matrix itself. 

Still didn't change the fact Optimus was gone, and his cold, grey, dead shell was laid out just as they left him, arm still hanging off the berth from where he'd been trying to hand the Matrix to Magnus, and he just got in the way. Seemed to be a way of life recently, sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. 

“I'm sorry,” Rodimus said. “I didn't mean for this to happen. Kup was, as usual, correct in his assessment of the situation—it was your fight, not mine. Ironically, it's mine now. Karma, I guess, as the humans like to say. And I don't want this. The Matrix, being Prime, any of it. I'd take it all back if I could. I don't suppose the Matrix let somebody time travel, can it?”

He snorted. Yeah. If only it was possible. 

“They're planning a big funeral for you and the others. Ultra Magnus said I have to speak. I told him to shove it. He can do the talking. I've talked enough the past few days, but no one wants to listen. Jazz is helping, but he's barely keeping it together because Prowl's gone. So's Ratchet and Ironhide and Wheeljack. . .too many. . .Yeah, the war's finally over, but at what cost? The city's a wreck, nobody's even figured out just how many we lost, and don't even get me started on Cybertron. . .”

He trailed off at the sound of footsteps and the now-familiar annoyed ex-venting of Ultra Magnus. 

“You shouldn't be here,” Magnus said. “You need to rest.”

“Blow it out your aft,” Rodimus muttered. 

Another ex-vent. “Rodimus. . .”

“I can't rest,” Rodimus said. “I can't do this.”

“You're not the only one who's hurting,” Magnus said, setting a hand on the other mech's shoulder. “Kup and Springer will be back sometime today. I thought you'd like to know.”

“Thanks,” Rodimus said. 

“And you should try and rest,” Magnus said. 

“Can't make it an order now, can you?” Rodimus asked, a wry grin on his face. 

“I could pull rank, but I'd rather not,” Magnus said. 

“I know,” Rodimus said. “I just don't want him to be alone.”

“I'll stay,” Magnus said. He didn't add he couldn't recharge, either. 

88888

The trip back to Earth was mostly uneventful. Plenty of time to go over the data pulled from the lab, and Springer wasn't in the mood to be bothered. Kup couldn't blame the kid. He'd just lost his sire, his best friend was in a situation no one envied, and he was just plain done. Kup understood, but his age and experience left him a little better prepared to deal with it all. Just barely. 

His relationship with Ironhide had cooled before the Ark left Cybertron, and getting sparked in the middle of a war wasn't the best idea. Springer was the result of that relationship. But time and distance couldn't diminish the loss of Kup's old friend and lover. Also, his emotional state wasn't much better than Springer's, and getting worse as he read the information on the data pad. 

He'd considered Alpha Trion a friend, but not anymore. Good thing the mech was dead, and with good reason. The mech had conducted unsanctioned experiments on subjects without their consent. Younglings. Just kids, not old enough for their final upgrades, or give their consent. Which was why they were chosen. Except Alpha Trion chose to overlook one tiny detail. One of his test subjects did have one living creator. 

Kup slammed the data pad down on the console, earning a glare from Springer. 

“What's wrong with you?” Springer snapped. 

“Don't,” Kup said. “Just don't.”

Springer rolled his optics, going back to his flight telemetry. 

Kup set his head in his hands. Why now? Because the universe was a fickle bitch and Primus didn't even have the back struts to wake up and defend himself and his children from the Unmaker? 

Memories came flooding back, and it was almost too much. He'd made peace with these particular losses a long time ago because he had to. A bond mate and their only creation lost in an accident. Except now Kup knew it was no accident, and their sparkling hadn't died. He'd lived, and his Orion had been sold to the highest bidder.


	2. Breaking

Stumbling Out of the Darkness  
Chapter 2--Breaking

The moment the shuttle landed, Kup bolted, leaving a startled Springer in his wake. The kid would come looking for answers later, if there was a later. Kup was beyond livid, and only one being left in existence could give him answers. He was taking a risk, but didn't care. They'd all been pushed beyond their limits in the past few days, and he was now past even his breaking point. He almost could've lived without knowing what he knew now—his son hadn't died all those years ago, and he'd been right under his nose for eons, and he'd never even known. 

Maybe Ultra Magnus had some answers, and Kup didn't hesitate when he found the other mech heading away from the city's auxiliary command center. And the city commander suddenly found himself in the grip of a furious Kup, who sunk his fingers into the other mech's armor, crushing metal and breaking lines. 

“How much did you know?” he snarled, shoving the mech into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. 

“About what?” Magnus asked. 

“Orion Pax.”

“What does it matter now?” Magnus said. “He's dead.”

“You will be if you don't answer my question,” Kup said.

“He was my friend,” Magnus said. “We grew up in the youth sector after his creator died and left him alone. We were dock workers in Iacon when Megatron attacked. We were rebuilt by Alpha Trion. Orion was first, Elita was second and I was an afterthought. Is that enough?”

“I knew Alpha Trion had something to do with Optimus' appearance out of nowhere, but upgrading three younglings into adult frames. . .he's lucky he didn't finish the job Megatron started.”

“He said Optimus had a strong spark, and that's why he survived the upgrade,” Magnus said. “I wasn't as lucky.”

“I know about the upgrades, Magnus, including the extra heavy plating over your spark, and the exo armor providing further protection,” Kup said. “What was the name of this 'creator?'”

“A femme named Volley,” Magnus said. “Orion didn't talk much about her.”

“You grew up together?”

“Why would I lie?” Magnus said. “Orion's legal name was Optronix, but he insisted on being called Orion. I never argued with him. There was no point. Kup, what is this all about?”

“Like you said, it doesn't matter,” Kup said, giving the mech another shove.

He noticed Magnus' optics flick their attention away from him, over his shoulder, and found himself peeled off the other mech by an angry Jazz and confused Springer. 

“I hope you have a good reason for causing a scene, old-timer,” Jazz said. “But I don't think Rodimus or anyone else needs to witness officers threatening each other or having a public breakdown. Kup, walk it off. Rodi needs you calm and collected. We all do.”

Ex-venting, Kup shuttered his optics. 

“Better now?” Jazz asked. 

“Yeah,” Kup answered. 

“We'll talk later,” Jazz said, letting him go. 

“What was that all about?” Springer asked. 

“Something important we need to talk about when we've both got our wits about us,” Kup said. 

“Important enough you slammed Magnus into a wall hard enough to leave a dent?” Springer said, crossing his arms, giving his carrier a skeptical look. 

“Yes,” Kup said. 

“C'mon Kup, spill,” Springer said. 

“Go find Rodi. He'll know we're back by now, and one of us should go check on him. There's something I have to take care of,” Kup said. 

“Sure,” Springer said. “I just wanna make sure you're OK.”

Kup snorted. “None of us are 'OK' right now, lad,” he said. 

“Tell me about it,” Springer muttered. 

88888

Kup wasn't surprised to find the med bay empty. Well, empty of anyone living but himself. 

The shells of fallen Autobots were laid out on the remaining berths, and Kup tried hard to ignore them, heading for one in particular. Someone had finally moved Optimus, cleaned up his frame, set his hands on his chest.

Kup caressed the helm of the fallen Prime, his first-born.

88888  
Kup's meltdown reached Rodimus, who wasn't surprised by the outburst. Hell, he wanted to put Magnus' head through a wall for his own reasons. Plus Magnus was just a 

convenient for taking out his frustrations. The mech would take it, up to a point. Then he'd start saying things Rodimus needed to hear, but didn't want to hear. The city 

commander seemed like he was unaffected by everything going on around him, but Rodimus knew better. The mech had just lost his best and oldest friends, been handed the 

Matrix of Leadership and lost it, and died and been brought back to life in the past few days. It was enough to shatter the calm and sanity of one of the most stable mechs in the Autobot forces. 

The fact Magnus was cracking just a little and showing it gave Rodimus just the slightest feeling of glee. He felt a little guilty about it, but at least he could still feel 

something when he didn't want to feel anything at all. Numb. He wanted numb. No amount of high grade had yet managed to take the edge off, even though Jazz had pilfered from the twins' prized stash. 

Primus, the twins. Even they were a mess. Everyone was, and anyone claiming they weren't were promptly relegated to medical. First Aid had his hands full, he was just a

medic, not a counselor. Well, Smokescreen was a shrink by training, and Rodimus figured he'd get the mech to do his job once he was actually thinking clearly. But he wasn't. Not

yet. 

At least he'd had Springer's company for a while, before Magnus showed up to his quarters, kicking Springer out, and telling him to try and get some rest. Again. Mech wasn't

following his own advice, the new Prime suspected. Springer had actually followed orders, and Rodimus was feeling slightly better. The guilt wasn't leaving any time soon, and the

burden of leadership was one he didn't want, but Springer made him feel like himself for a short time, and he wasn't treating him any different. Others were, and it was one of the

many matters currently freaking out the young Autobot. 

But he'd deal with it later.


End file.
